Scarlett

I used to think moonlight was beautiful. Stupid, really, how many nights I spent bathing in its glow, whispering prayers like some lovesick fool. Now, I can’t even look at it. I’ve draped black sheets over my windows, but still, that silver light finds ways to creep in, mocking me with its presence.

I had spent so many nights gazing up at that same moon, praying to her. Praying for love. For a mate who would cherish me, who would finally make me feel whole. And yet, ...